"The increased level of Dementor activity is becoming a real cause for concern. It suggests that they are aware we are down here."

A troubled murmur went around the table as Kingsley's words sank in. I anxiously fiddled with my bracelet; trying to press down the fear that threatened to overwhelm me.

"But this makes no sense," Arthur spoke up amongst the rising chatter, "why now? After all these years?"

"My theory is simply that they sense our increasingly low spirits." Kingsley went onto explain, the deep tone of his voice instantly quieting everyone down drawing attention back to him. "Dementors, as you know, are drawn to misery. When we first found ourselves down here, shock masked our low feelings. And then we had hope; creating a workable community together, and plans to overthrow You-Know-Who. But as the years have passed, our hope has dwindled. Spirits are at an all time low and the Dementors feel it and want it. It's only a matter of time before the Death Eaters's attention are drawn to this."

"SO WE RAISE MORALE!" Ginny roared, rising from her seat as she slammed her hand down hard on the table, causing Molly to yelp and clutch her chest. "Get everyone to cheer the fuck up or get out!"

I cocked an eyebrow, wanting to point out that she was the most miserable bitch of the lot of us; but deciding instead to stay quiet for the sake of a peaceful life.

"Thank you, Miss Weasley," Kingsley said with an exasperated sigh as he motioned for her to sit back down, "but simply telling everyone to 'cheer the fuck up', as you so eloquently put, is not going to achieve anything. We need to give the people hope; something to strive towards."

"But how?" Ron asked, as all eyes swivelled to him. "Lie? Tell them we're close to bringing down No-Nose and freedom is just around the corner?"

"Lying is a dangerous game," Kingsley said, shaking his head. "If they find out, we'll lose their trust and eventually all hope. It would be extremely counterproductive to say the least. No, what we need is a new strategy. We need someone Upstairs smack bang in the middle of the enemy; gaining their trust and passing us information. Without this, we literally have nothing. We cannot even begin to bring him down if we don't get up there and kill that snake."

I inwardly sighed; this was not the first time we were having this conversation. And I knew exactly what was coming next.

Because getting someone Upstairs amongst the enemy was easier said than done; anyone qualified and skilled enough to do the job was too well known and would be either captured or killed on the spot, thus giving away our hideout.

Any journey made Upstairs was done solely with the aid of the Invisibility Cloak, which Ron had managed to rescue just before the explosion. And because of protective enchantments on Hogwarts grounds, Apparition couldn't be done without a walk under a Dementor filled sky first. So it was vital that visitors Upstairs must be able to produce a fully corporeal Patronus; something that only Kingsley could seem to achieve these days.

But Kingsley was a well known Order member and so therefore would not be able to fool the enemy. I, however, with my blood and Slytherin status, would have been perfect for the job, but if it weren't for two major reasons.

The first, of course, being Jack. I couldn't and wouldn't leave him to go on such a dangerous mission. I was his mother and he needed me alive down here more than he needed me dead Upstairs.

The second reason... well... that was something that baffled even Kingsley, himself. I'd had no wand when I came down here which wasn't unusual in itself; a good few of us had lost our wands during battle. But what was unusual was the fact that literally no one else's wand worked for me. It was as though I'd lost my magic entirely.

Hermione assured me it was probably just the stress of finding myself unexpectedly knocked up at the worst of times. But as the years rolled by, still nothing.

Which meant there was no hope in me ever being allowed Upstairs, and so I just sat back and waited for everyone around the table to start volunteering themselves up for this dangerous job as spy; despite knowing that each and every one of them will get knocked back for either being too well known or too stupid.

The conversation today, however, didn't get to play out because we were interrupted by a tentative knock followed by Luna's head appearing around the door.

"Sorry to disturb proceedings," she said dreamily, her eyes searching the table's occupants until they landed on me. "I'm afraid it's Jack. I'm having a spot of bother."

Ginny gave a loud tut as I excused myself at once and swept quickly across the room.

"What's happened?" I asked Luna as soon as I closed the door behind me, my pulse rate quickening as I began to imagine all sorts of horrific scenarios. "Is he okay?"

"Ummm- define okay?"

"Is he at least breathing?"

"Oh, yes," she nodded, her homemade dried prune earrings bobbing energetically up and down upon her shoulders, "he's definitely doing that."

She led the way into the room that Jack and I shared; my eyes going straight to the bed where he was curled up in a ball sobbing his eyes out.

"Jack?" I breathed as I swept over to him, instantly scooping his small shuddering body onto my lap. "What's wrong little fox?"

"The b-bad man," he choked, burying his damp face in my neck as little arms clung tightly around me.

I looked up questioningly at Luna.

"He wouldn't stop asking about the bad man," she explained apologetically, "but I didn't feel it was my place to tell him anything, so I suggested we do some drawings instead."

She walked over to the little table in the corner and picked up a piece of parchment which appeared to covered in angry back squiggles, not like Jack's usual lovely colourful drawings of rainbows and flowers and all the other things he had learnt about the Upstairs and couldn't wait to see.

When Luna then picked up another and another, each covered in the same angry black drawings, my insides twisted and squirmed.

I had made a grave error to think he was ready to hear about the real world Upstairs.

Because it seemed my little boy was losing hope; the very hope we so desperately needed to survive.

******

Draco sealed the last box and stood up; a lump forming in his throat as his eyes swept over the now empty looking summer house; not a trace of Blaire in sight.

A small morose whimpering sound came from the Scottie dog at his feet.

"We'll fill it with new memories," Draco said with forced joviality, trying to push down the horrific ache in his heart as he scooped Orion up in his arms and scratched behind his ears.

"I'm going to be a good father, you know," he continued, thinking fiercely of the shit childhood he'd endured; a childhood that had cost him the love of his life. "I need to be. I need to be the father Lucius never was... she'd understand."

And, as he reached into his pocket to feel the old boot he'd allowed himself to keep, he found himself releasing a shuddering sob.

Fuck, he'd never stop missing her.

But it was time to put ghosts to rest.

With a shaking hand, he raised his wand and pointed it towards the boxes containing all their precious memories, his heart breaking as they vanished from his life.

*****

"He'll be here shortly, I promise."

Astoria tried to hide her irritation as she glanced back out of the window, wondering where he'd gotten to now.

He spent far too much time in that damned dog house; anyone would think he preferred the company of that diseased flea ridden rat to his own wife's.

She tried, she really did. She made sure to be every bit the perfect Death Eater's wife. She preened herself every single day, spending hours picking out the correct outfits and styling her hair so that she always looked her best no matter the occasion. She made an effort to take interest in his work; living and believing in his boss's values, and was always nothing short of welcoming and friendly to his colleagues.

But Draco barely even acknowledged her; showed such little gratitude to the work and effort she had made at being a good wife.

She thought things would improve now she was carrying his child, but if anything, he seemed relieved of the fact that he had been 'discharged' of his bedroom duties.

Not that she minded. Yes, she wanted Draco's love and undivided attention, but sex was something that she'd never fully engaged with. He'd always acted as though he was going to war when they did it; a look of grim determination on his face as he hovered above her, his eyes glazing over as if he was pretending he was anywhere but there.

Afterwards, once he'd rolled off and turned his back on her, she would often hear him cry himself quietly to sleep.

It was nothing short of pathetic.

Lieutenant Diggory coughed, drawing her attention away from the window.

"The Dark Lord is not a patient man," he drawled, his soft tones holding a hint of danger. "If your husband is unwilling to fulfil his duty then I can always find a more suitable candidate to escort-"

"I'm here," interrupted a low growling voice as the drawing room door swung open, revealing her ever surly looking husband whose eyes instantly swivelled accusingly to the handsome Hufflepuff.

"You took your time," Astoria said stoutly, trying to keep her cool as she pointedly pressed a hand to her stomach. "I called you ten minutes ago."

"I was attending to some important affairs," Draco answered stiffly, his piercing glare not leaving Diggory's. "But I'm here now."

Astoria tried to hide her hurt at his dismissive attitude towards her. Just once she'd like him to walk into a room and look at her as though she meant something to him. She was carrying his child for Voldemort's sake!

"Well, I hope you're ready to take a trip back down memory lane," Diggory smirked as he twirled his wand cockily in his hand, "because we've had a call from your old pal, Umbridge. Dementors swarming the grounds; she wants us to check it out."

Astoria noticed it at once; the way his whole body seemed to react at the mention of the place he'd refused to even talk about anymore.

Hogwarts.

She knew why, of course. She saw it in the slight widening of his eyes and the faint twitch along his jaw; unnoticeable to most, but clear as day to Astoria.

Blaire. The girl that had stolen his heart and refused to let anyone else take - even though she had promised her!

Astoria had never forgotten Blaire's words that night in the dungeons; the promise of a dream come true. She had practically offered Draco to her.

Yet she had been the reason Draco had dug his heels in about the marriage; even outright refused to at first. But a few whispered words in her father's ear and one urgent meeting between Voldemort and the Malfoy's later; Draco finally agreed to make her his wife.

He'd married her because he had to. But he still refused to love her, still refused to give his heart to anyone but a dead girl who'd chosen to fight on the opposing side of the war to him.

Astoria would never have done that; never have chosen death over being with the man she loved. Yet somehow her blind and deluded husband couldn't see that.

But now she finally had something over that bitch, she thought smugly as her hand went back to her stomach where his baby grew; her future bargaining chip to his heart.

And nothing; nothing could ever trump that.

Especially not a ghost.

*****